


Destane's Lessons

by guiltyhousewife



Category: Aladdin (1992), Aladdin: The Animated Series, Disney - All Media Types
Genre: Drowning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Torture, Temperature Play, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltyhousewife/pseuds/guiltyhousewife
Summary: Destane gives Mozenrath a new chance to learn, or, a glimpse into what tortures would drive someone to strip away their former master's humanity





	Destane's Lessons

Mozenrath gasped for air as the chain around his bound hands pulled him above the surface of the water. His lungs burned, his feet scrabbling against the glass surface of the tank to hold him there so he might possible get enough time to gain his breath. He heard a crisp snap of someone's fingers, and the chain dropped him back into the water, letting out a cry of dismay before he was lost to the inky blackness.

From his position, Destane watched intently, sipping his drink idly as his apprentice thrashed in the water, desperately trying to reach the surface without the aid of his hands, the ineffectual-ness of his actions proving exhaustion was taking it's toll. To his right, a mamluck stood with the end of the chain that ran high into the air and through a pulley attached to the ceiling. The chain then traveled a taunt line into the water, attached firmly to the chain that kept Mozenrath's hands wrenched behind his back, jerking him up for air just when Destane could see Mozenrath's eyes glaze over with the beginnings of unconsciousness, then dropping him back into the water to struggle when he was expecting it the least.

Destane had changed strategies.

When he had first begun, when Mirage first dropped this stolen child of indeterminable origin at his doorstep for tutoring in magic, he knew exactly what he'd take from him. In the beginning, it had been all about Destane's pleasure, despite the kid's screams and cries, resistance and horror. But things changed, as his young apprentice got older, got used to being a toy of his master's whim. He almost became numb, burying his head into his studies and research, becoming a fairly good sorcerer. But where there is knowledge, there is confidence, and confidence breeds rebellion. If it was to be believed, and Destane didn't at the time, Mozenrath grew the audacity to act like he was scornful of Destane, and emit such a hate for his master that Destane could feel it. It was just he wasn't afraid of Destane any more; he'd experienced all of the tortures Destane had to offer. After awhile, he began to not be affected by strikes and visits to Destane's bed.

That's when Destane decided that burying his cock in that tight little ass wasn't enough. He'd make the boy look to him for everything, for mercy, support, comfort and care. He'd make him totally dependable on Destane. Destane would become everything to him, life, relief and total domination.

Lesson One: Cold.

Mozenrath had been stripped, bound and lead to the main throne room. There, Destane had a huge, rectangular prism, almost like an eerily human size aquarium had been set up on a platform under the pulley. And in it, was water Destane had taken from the coldest depths of the ocean via magic. Mozenrath saw with astonishment that sheets of ice still floated on the surface. It was dark blue-black, filling the large room in shifting light patterns on every available surface. Mozenrath sensed what was to happen, and resisted, but Destane got his way, and the lesson began.

Where shock once was, Mozenrath now knew he was fighting for his life, fear etched on his face with wild desire to live as he fought his way to the surface, to yell, if only for a moment,

"Please!" before he was sucked back under.

Destane smiled in approval and snapped his fingers once more, nodding at his mamluck. Slowly, the zombie-like soldier pulled on the chain, lifting Mozenrath clear from the water, his white skin almost glowing against the blackness of the room as shivering and miserable, sucking in air like it was the first he'd ever had privilege to breathe, he was lowered to his feet. Obediently, the mamluck, without compassion or care, opinion or emotion, unhooked the chain from the Mozenrath's wrist manacles, and then too removed those. He stepped back, seeing the look of dismissal on Destane's face, leaving Mozenrath shivering and clutching himself in a desperate pursuit of warmth from his own body.

Mozenrath knew, however hopeful his desires were, that running from the room to try and locate his clothes and Allah forbid a towel would be futile and probably result in more punishment. So he stood, whole body wracked in shakes, hopping from one foot to the other, trying to still the chattering in his teeth as Destane casually approached, swirling his drink in his hand as he stopped to look Mozenrath over. His apprentice tried to meet his gaze, but looked away in shame of his own state, knowing he looked pitiful waiting for a bit of mercy at Destane's command.

The corners of Destane's mouth twitched as he watched Mozenrath's lips turn a slight blue and it became hard to maintain balance he was shivering so hard, quaking. The drafts and inner winds of the Citadel were merciless and licked with cruelty around the pale, thin figure of his student.

But Destane had to admit, even in this state, Mozenrath was impressive looking. His thick, slightly curled hair dripped down into his face, complimenting the almost black color of his large eyes. A Roman-esque nose and high cheekbones, giving him a regal look in any other circumstance, accompanied this. He had a long, graceful looking neck, one that, in Destane's opinion, begged to be marred by bruising. He tucked away that thought for later. From there, the young sorcerer's body was all lean and sharp angles, pretty collarbone, light, flirty pink nipples on a boyish looking chest, a concave stomach. Hips that could cut paper led to a shy nether region, a modest manhood dusted in curly black hair, ball sac tucked from his view as Mozenrath huddled into himself. His soft white thighs were generous, and if Destane had his opinion, which he did, Mozenrath was all legs, long, graceful, almost dancer legs leading to delicate ankles and small feet. His was a body meant to be prone underneath Destane's, wailing and arching, curls spread out like a painting on a white pillow as Destane pounded him into the mattress at his leisure.

He was brought back to the present when a small noise of unhappiness brought his eyes up to Mozenrath, who he could tell now was truly suffering.

"M-M-master, p-p-please, I'm cold".

Destane arched an eyebrow, "You're cold, hmm? Well what you like me to do about it, little kitten?"

Mozenrath's Adams apple bobbed in total dejection as he strained to get his words out clearly.

"P-p-please, let m-m-me get...dressed."

"Oh but you don't need your clothes to get warm, little kitten, your solution is right here."

He waited as a still shaking Mozenrath processed his words, wondering until he finally took stock of what Destane was wearing. The Lord of The Black Sands was dressed in thick, heavy robes of velvet that hung in bounty on his frame with his cloak of the same material. Clothes, Mozenrath's cold numbed mind told him, were just about the warmest he'd seen. He looked up in pleading and question. Destane met his gaze with a warm smile, holding his arms out. Resentment and pride made Mozenrath hesitate for only a moment before he flung himself into his master's embrace, making a noise of miserable knowledge of what he had done ripping from his throat as he desperately clung to the front of Destane's robes, pushing and pulling the fabric towards him, greedily needing the infinite warmth the man gave off like air. He pressed his body close, Destane's arms wrapping around him and pulling him compliantly close as Mozenrath buried his head in his chest. With a sly look, his hands wandered down the other's body, clutching his apprentice's buttocks in a covetous grip. Mozenrath rose of his feet, stiffening until Destane murmured comfortingly into his ear,

"Let me make you warmer"

He paused, waiting for a reaction, and when he got no resistance, lifted Mozenrath clear off his feet, pulling the cloak around him to shield him from cold and curious glances. Mozenrath's legs locked around the other's middle, holding on and hating himself for his weakness, but he was still shaking, and still so desolately freezing. Destane laid him down carefully on the couch of his choice, draping himself across him, a strong thigh between Mozenrath's legs. Mozenrath thought he knew what was coming, so he was startled when Destane's lips touched his neck, sucking and kissing and licking almost worshipfully. Mozenrath sighed, his master's mouth was hot on his cold skin, and it felt shamefully good. His head fell back, offering total surrender. Destane grinned against his skin, traveling down the other's neck and chest until he suddenly bit an already pebbled nipple. Mozenrath yelped, a hot blush spreading across his body, and it felt better.

Destane's busy mouth traveled down with precision and plan until Mozenrath rose to meet him needily, grateful for any warmth. With any warning to his sensation-drunk student, he took a hesitantly half-aroused erection into his mouth. Mozenrath wailed, nails becoming claws as he tried to escape, embarrassment further warming his body. But as if to mock him, he got harder in his master's mouth and relaxed into the ministrations with tears in his eyes. His breath came in sobs as he was brought closer and closer to the edge, delayed each time when Destane would squeeze the base of his erection, preventing it. At a tactful moment, Destane's fingers wandered down in-between the wantonly spread legs of his younger partner, encircling and teasing an entrance he had possessed many times.

Mozenrath's mouth fell open as busy fingers entered him, stretching and preparing with shocking tenderness and patience. To spite him, it seemed, his body reacted eagerly, rising to meet Destane's hand, body aching for something more substantial. Destane pulled back with a pleased smile, setting his pants and undergarments aside. Mozenrath's mind reeled as Destane sat on his knees, lifting Mozenrath's hips for ready penetration.

Destane...had won.

He howled as he was filled when Destane thrust home, hitting with precise accuracy a nerve bundle inside of him that made his eyes fly open wide and sparks dance inside him and out. Destane kept up a merciless rhythm, one Mozenrath's body needed as he met each plunge into his body. Tears ran hot down his face, as fully warm and dying in side with shame and betrayal, he came for the first time since Destane had started taking him.

Destane grunted as he came into the still body beneath him, finger's gripping and pulling the tender skin at Mozenrath's hips to form flowering bruises. He looked into the devastated face of his trainee, and watched the thought process develop in his mind.

He had learned to accept pleasure from Destane, pleasure and comfort Destane now proved would come.

Lesson one is over

*****************ideas for other "lessons"?********************


End file.
